All the Truth about Draco Malfoy
by MomentoMori2
Summary: "Don't even try, Mr. Malfoy. It is too difficult to shake the earth alone." Translation.


This is translation.

_**Original author - RaBbit**_

_**Link to the original - www. hogwartsnet. ru /fanf ?fid=49740&l=0 (don't forget to delete spaces)**_

**A/N: **so, this is my first serious and long story in English. Don't judge it too strictly. This story is set in the Trio's sixth year of Hogwarts. This is the way author sees the sixth book. A story is finished in original, it consists of 15 chapters. There would be approximately 150 pages in this fanfic. Hermione is not a kick-ass super-witch, nor is she weak, feeble and useless. There would also be the sexual scenes in it, so if you're not a fan of PWP, than you can skip this story with an easy mind. The fanfic is not about the romance and love. Well, it is not only about the romance and love. There would be a true hate, pain and all that sweet things that we all know and love, without which all the books would be boring and stupid. Warning, violance!

I also really, _really _need a beta-reader. Guys, please, help me! This chapter is not checked yet, so all the mistakes and fatal errors are all mine (English is not my first language).

_Disclaimer_: this story is based on characters created and owned by J. , various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Prologue**

It was one of the most beautiful autumn's days. Such days happened rarely for the northern dwellers. A big azure sky seemed to be the glass cupola, stretched above the ground. There was neither cloud, nor wind. The Forbidden Forest transformed completely, sparkling with all the shades of yellow, red and green colors. The dark trunks against the fiery foliage seemed to be cut out of plywood or even painted. The air was transparent and it seemed that one, if desired, could take a bite of it. Morning coolness had retreated, giving a way to the unobtrusive freshness of the day and to the warmness of the sunbeams. That was, perhaps, one of the very last warm days in that year. It was the beginning of October.

Breathing in deeply the spicy air, smelling of Black Lake's water, fresh grass on the Quidditch pitch and smoke from the chimneys, Hermione sat down on a stone near the water. She was in incredibly good mood that day. Though, Granger couldn't even tell why. In that morning, barely opening her eyes, she just felt that that day something great was going to happen. This mood hadn't left her after the breakfast, even after the chat in the living-room, it was always with her. It was Saturday and Hermione wanted as usual to work in the library, but a strange feeling had forced her to leave the castle and to go there, to the lake.

She liked that place. Many pleasant and not as pleasant memories were bounded to it. The Black Lake, Forbidden Forest, the castle, which hovered over all the lands. Hogwarts. Gryffindor liked it almost more than her own home. Though, maybe, she _did_ like it more. There was no such a place in the whole world with which she was bounded as strongly, as with school. Hermione couldn't imagine that in two years she would already exit those doors to never return there…

Hermione threw sad thoughts away, as she always threw the needless parchment from the table. She was feeling good. And two years, after all, weren't that short. Especially when ahead there were more dangerous and hard times. How many times had Harry spoken with them about that? Granger already couldn't remember. God! Harry… How he was worrying about them, how feared that they'd follow him, when the time came… He thought that they – Ron and Hermione – didn't guess at it. He was still naive, that Harry Potter. They would never leave him. Wherever he went, neither to hell, nor to the Battle with Vodemort, they'd follow him.

Hermione's musings were interrupted by the approaching noise and voices. Two of the students were reaching the lake, arguing fiercely. Judging by voices, a boy and a girl. Hermione turned around, immediately recognizing them – a girl of small stature with carefully stacked dark hair and piercing contemptuous look, dressed in a black cloak with a green emblem, was undoubtedly Pansy Parkinson. And a young man, accompanying her (or rather she, on the contrary, was accompanying him) was, of course, none other than Draco Malfoy.

Hermione frowned. The meeting with Malfoy was the last thing she wanted in such a great day. He was that kind of person, who on the count of one could spoil her mood completely, and on the count of two could infuriate her with only one single stupid comment. For those five long years that she knew him Granger managed to learn how not to pay any attention to what he was doing or saying. But recently Harry started to show a genuine interest in him. "I'm sure that Malfoy is a Death Eater!" he said every time when somebody mentioned his most vicious enemy. And not so long ago his suspicions started to confirm themselves.

For example, that mysterious trek to "Bergin and Burkes". Or his behavior in Madam Malkin's store. And after all that "performance" during the trip on Hogwarts Express, which definitely showed his involvement in the Voldemort's affairs. That was what Harry was saying. He was sacredly certain in his rightness. But Hermione couldn't agree with him. She herself didn't know the reasons that caused her to justify Malfoy. He certainly wasn't an angel. He was, actually, quite a nasty and slippery character. And spoiled Harry, Ron and her a lot of blood. But Granger still couldn't force herself to believe in the fact that he was a Death Eater. It just didn't make sense. Probably, she _did_ only want to think better of him that he seemed to be. That he really was…

Malfoy, accompanied by Parkinson, quickly approached the lakeside. He was looking tired. Or he was just furious, Hermione didn't know. Pansy was endlessly talking about something, sometimes her voice broke on the creek, or more precisely on some rat squeak, from which Gryffindor cringed. Malfoy was answering her in quiet short phrases because of which Pansy was becoming even stormier. In the heat of the argument, none of them noticed that on the bank there was someone else except them. Coming close to Hermione, Slytherin couple stopped near the dumpy old willow. Because of its trunk they couldn't see Hermione. But _Hermione_ could hear everything perfectly well. Her first urge was to stand up and go away or, perhaps, to cough to make them know about her presence. But after hearing the first phrases of their dialogue, she immediately changed her mind, holding her breath and shouted mentally "Why do I not have the invisible cloak with me when I need it?" The conversation was, at least to say, interesting.

"How can you even say that?" Parkinson cried in too high-pitched voice. "Does this mean absolutely nothing for you? Everything that had happened?"

"Nothing had happened, Parkinson," Malfoy answered idly, as if he was a fed cat, playing with a boring mouse. "Why have you ever thought that it really is important for me?"

"You're… You're so selfish, Draco!" Pansy almost shouted, the dangerous notes emerged in her voice. It seemed that in a minute she'd start to speak in the ultrasound. "You can't act like this! I'm a daughter of the famous, rich and well-known family too. Our parents…"

"I don't care about your parents," Malfoy interrupted perfunctorily and leaned against the stem of an old willow. (Hermione could swear that at that moment he crossed his arms on his chest and stared at Pansy with his famous impenetrably contemptuous look. And, most likely, he was doing the most favorite thing in his life – smirked scornfully).

Pansy made the sound similar to the groan or whimper, something in the middle. It was like a squeak of a dying bat. Hermione felt the shivers down her spine.

"Don't say that!" Parkinson screamed, almost crying. "We are dedicated to each other, after all! And I completely don't understand what the Dark Lord has to do with this…"

"Shut up, Parkinson!" Malfoy hissed. "One more word about the Dark Lord and you'll be scraped off the grass near the Astronomy Tower!"

Hermione tensed. That was something interesting! It seemed that she was all ears. Now she couldn't just go away.

Pansy sobbed one more time.

"Okay. I'll leave. Won't disturb you anymore," Slytherin said, her voice now was calm and deep, though still a bit nervous. "If you really are doing that for the sake of the Dark Lord… Whatever you're doing, it's not important. I'm not interested in it. Of course, if you need any help…"

"I DON'T need any help!" Malfoy shouted, emphasizing the word "don't".

For the next several seconds Pansy was collecting her thoughts. Malfoy didn't give her any opportunity to persuade himself.

"Draco…" her voice was trembling. "Tell me only one thing… Is it all because of another girl?"

"Oh Merlin, Parkinson!" Malfoy sighed theatrically ("He is certainly rolling his eyes!" thought Hermione, being annoyed). "Sometimes you're just unbearably stupid! No, even impenetrably stupid! Sometimes I ask myself – is Hagrid any of you relatives?"

"How dare you?.." Pansy gasped in indignation.

"Stop it!" Malfoy interrupted her authoritatively. "I don't want to speak about that anymore. We need to break up. Is it clear? This is the end. Over. You should not be interested in reasons. Oh, and Parkinson, only try to let out something of what you have heard to at least one soul…

There was a tensed silence between them. Pansy was thinking about what she had heard, tugging the sleeve of the cloak. Finally, she managed to say something.

"Okay. I'll do as you have said. But you need to know – if it is because of another girl, then she'll be the one to be scraped off the grass…"

Malfoy snorted.

"Don't throw the threats in such an easy way, Parkinson. They have one characteristic feature – to come true. And stop dissolving nurses. After all, your name is noble and famous and you must maintain its authority. Furthermore, you are a Slytherin. That's why just stop. Enough. Now, return to the castle.

Pansy sobbed again, grunting something like 'Good bye', and quickly ran towards the main gate.

Malfoy decided to stay on the lakeside. He leaned against the warm (smelling like autumn, earth and fog) trunk and, narrowing his eyes in a cat manner, looked at the shiny steel surface of the lake. Solar flares played on his light skin, giving it a resemblance to a marble. In that moment he really looked like a marble sculpture. Beautiful and very cold one. A soft wind touched his blond hair. This wind brought with itself a strangely familiar scent…

Hermione had heard everything she wanted to hear. Or at least could hear. Now the best option was to move away, or Malfoy would notice her presence and understand that she had heard everything. At that moment Hermione was too vulnerable – her best friends were at the training, thinking that she as always was in the library, were she wasn't. "Maybe, I should try a Stunning Curse? Malfoy in any case doesn't see me, so he won't suspect me in anything… And if he were me, that git wouldn't stand on ceremony and, probably, would right away hit we with a Killing Curse!" that was what Hermione was thinking, starting to become really angry. All her good mood, that was accompanying her from the morning, vanished in an instant. And only he was the cause of it, Draco Malfoy. Without hesitating, Hermione lowered her hand in the pocket, feeling the warmth of the wand.

"Not worth it, Granger," she heard suddenly.

Hermione flinched in surprise, dropping her wand in the grass. "Shit!" that was the last thought in her head, when she saw a smirking Draco Malfoy, who peeked out from behind the tree. A girl wanted to reach it, but Slytherin, noticing it in the grass, stepped on the wand with his perfectly dusted shoe. The wand cracked menacingly.

"Give me my wand, Malfoy!" Granger hissed, growing pale. She was feared of what Malfoy could do with her after he had found out she was spying on him. Though it wasn't intentionally, how could one prove it? Especially to him.

"What wand?" Malfoy asked mockingly arching his eyebrows in fake surprise. "Maybe, this one?" he bent down and picked her only weapon.

With a sinking heart she watched as he twirled her wand, his hands soigné and aristocratic. Hermione couldn't say a word, as if her voice was no longer obeying her. As, though, all her body. It was betraying her. Malfoy chained her to the place by his piercing hateful gaze.

"Give it to me," Hermione whispered only by her lips, feeling as her fear started to transform into the panic. 'Calm down, Granger!' she told herself. 'It's only Malfoy… What can he do? We're in school, after all… There is Dumbledore. And Harry. It is only Malfoy, for God's sake!'

Slythering examined her wand for a few more seconds, as if he was looking at something uncommon, and then, without paying any attention to Hermione's requirement, stuck it in the pocket of his black pants. Hermione, who only a few seconds ago was deathly pale, blushed angrily in an instant.

"Haven't you heard me?!" Granger shouted. Her scream echoed over the lake. "I said give me my wand immediately, you narcissistic ugly slug!"

"Oh!" Malfoy said, taking a step towards Hermione \. She stepped back instantly. "This is becoming a habit of yours, Mudblood Granger!"

Hermione, still burning with rage, managed not to hit Malfoy. It wouldn't make any good anyway – he was taller and stronger, and he was a male, after all. And, perhaps, it was better not to piss him off. He had the force and the magic wand. Hermione had neither the first thing, nor the second one at that moment.

"You like to insult me, little Mudblood, don't you?" Malfoy asked, coming even closer. Hermione stepped back, but felt something hard and uneven against her back. Malfoy pressed her to the tree, there was nowhere to retreat anymore.

Granger gathered all her composure and answered, raising her chin.

"I don't like anything that is related with you, Malfoy! You're just a clown, a quite nasty one. I pity you…"

At the end of the phrase Hermione was herself scared of what she had said. To pity Malfoy? Who was he, after all? A bloody bastard, daddy's boy! There was anything holy in him. For what one could pity him?!

For an instant Malfoy's face twisted in disgust and anger, but he was better in controlling his emotions, than Hermione was. Putting on a familiar expression of mock, he smirked.

"If you need your wand, then be tonight in that corridor on the eight's floor. At midnight. Of course, if only you won't be scared.''

Hermione lost her words because of that impudence. But the show wasn't over yet.

"And yes," Malfoy added ready to go away. "Don't tell anything your friends, especially holy Potter. If I found out – and I surely found out – then you could order a new wand in the Ollivander's store! But wait…" Malfoy suddenly stopped, handing maliciously his next words." Oh, yes! An old stump's store is now closed! Isn't it an interesting twist of Fate, how do you think?" and, laughing theatrically and coldly, a boy withdrew.

Hermione, completely dazed, slopped down against the willow's trunk. What had he just said? Where should she come? What she needed to do?.. 'Oh, God. In what I get involved into?!' Hermione thought anguish, covering her face with both of her hands. She became exhaust of fear mixed with anger, and at that moment everything she needed was to sit down and to think. What a pity that she couldn't tell anything Harry and Ron…

'Stop!' Hermione raised her head abruptly, debating with herself. "Why couldn't I tell anything Harry? From what time am I obeying Malfoy?! He won't, after all, really break or burn my wand, will he? What will he benefit from it? And, oh, if I tell everything Dumbledore…'

'You won't do this,' her inner voice said suddenly. 'You won't go either to Harry, or to Dumbledore. You won't tell anything to anyone.'

'But why?' Hermione still tried to refuse.

'Because then you would have a chance to find out what Malfoy had planned,' an inner voice answered immediately. 'And now it is better to play by his rules. And then you'd tell everything. It would be useful to dissuade Harry that Malfoy is a Death Eater!'

"Or to prove it," Hermione said at aloud, trembling in anxiety.

Because of the sound of her own voice Granger became ill at ease. Shrugging, she stood up and headed to the castle. She no longer wanted to walk, although the weather was beautiful. A pearly dazzling blue sky was still shining brightly. One of the most beautiful October days.


End file.
